


Gods And Monsters

by ashurbadaktu



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashurbadaktu/pseuds/ashurbadaktu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles teaches Erik a lesson about power the hard way.  Based on a prompt from the 1stclass-kink meme on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods And Monsters

"Half the time, I think you treat these children's 'gifts' like they're a curse."

Charles looked up from the chess board, blinking at his friend in mild horror.

"God, no. No, no, Erik, they're gifts, of course they're gifts. They're a part of our evolution as a species. But that doesn't mean they don't need to be controlled."

Erik's lip curled at the word. 'Control'. It sounded like the stepping stone to other things, worse things. It sounded like a carefully constructed scientific experiment, and as Erik had said, he'd been a lab rat. He knew what happened to lab rats.

"We are what we were born to be, Charles. And if we were given our powers, we were meant to use them. Not... lock them away so that others can sleep at night, secure in their imagined superiority."

Charles wasn't looking at the chess board anymore. His eyes were on Erik now.

"Yes," he said slowly, trying to remain calm even though it seemed that was unlikely, "but--"

"But nothing!" Erik growled, standing up, starting to pace, "Everything you say, everything you explain in overblown scientific claptrap comes down to telling mutants, all mutants, that you can be yourself right up until it bothers the humans."

"That isn't what I'm saying at all, Erik," and he stood as well, slowly, warily, unsure of how far his friend's temper might go.

"Then what are you saying, Charles?"

"I'm saying," and he walked over to Erik, just as slowly, "that while our powers are a part of us, they are not all of us. And just as we only strike when we are threatened, only shout when we need to be heard over a crowd, that there is a time and a place."

"And who decides the time and place?" came the immediate answer, "The government? The CIA? The FBI? What was the first thing they thought of when it came to us, Charles. They thought of making a machine to find us."

"That they cannot use without me."

"And how long before you stop letting them use you?"

Charles didn't have an answer for that, not one that he could put into words. Certainly not one that Erik would accept.

"They do need to be found, Erik. And they need to be taught and they need to learn control." Which only made his companion seethe.

"Teach them to play nice, you mean."

"Yes," Charles snapped.

"You would fetter gods," Erik said, slow and grinding, "and ask them to play 'fair' against a world that won't hesitate to drag them down simply for existing."

"Gods without rules aren't gods, Erik."

"Then what are they, Charles?" he spit out.

Charles was quiet for a moment as he walked over to his desk, fiddling with something in the drawer before he pulled out the gun he'd refused to fire at Erik just this morning. Then he walked over and held it out for Erik.

"Take the gun, Erik," he said. Erik didn't like where this was going but despite that, took the weapon. It was heavy and familiar in his hand.

He looked up from the weapon to see that Charles had a finger to his temple.

“Point it at your head, Erik.”

Which was easy enough, of course. Erik had no fear of the gun. He pointed it at his temple without a moment’s pause. In fact, he was smiling.

“You’re not distracting me from this discussion, Charles.”

“I’m not distracting you from anything,” and for some reason, Charles’s voice was harder than usual. It rang warning bells for Erik, and he reached out immediately to feel for the bullet and the gun. He didn’t think his friend would harm him, but better to be pre--

He couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel them, or the metal of his belt, or the chess pieces between them. He couldn’t feel any metal at all. The sense he’d had since his time in Schmidt’s lab had disappeared and Erik’s breathing went heavier; he swallowed. Then he tried to open his mouth to ask Charles what on earth he thought he was doing--

“Don’t speak.”

And Erik found he couldn’t. He couldn’t even grunt; his vocal cords refused to vibrate, even his teeth remained clenched and would not move. His eyes went wide, panicked.

“Don’t move.”

And his muscles flexed and strained but remained locked in place. Charles, finger still to his temple, walked closer and closer, like a tiger circling his prey.

“You could be the President. You could be my neighbor who never brings his dogs in. You could be the mailman who keeps knocking my boxes about. You could be a political leader I don’t like. You could be anyone, Erik.”

He used his other hand then and slowly, gently pulled the gun into a different position.

Now, it was against Charles’s temple.

“And I could be your mother, your brother, your father, your cousin. I could be your lover or your ex-lover. I could be the only thing you have left in the world. And yet.”

His eyes focused, not on Erik but on something else, and Erik saw more than felt the index finger on his right hand shift.

“And yet.”

He knew this gun, he knew how it worked, had cleaned it and dismantled it and reassembled it. He knew the exact moment when the mechanism would catch and the bullet would come exploding out of the barrel. He couldn’t feel the metal, but he knew the when it would happen, when the gun would go off and Charles would

Charles would

 _All ist gut._

Charles would

 _The crack and then the soft, muffled thump that could have been a dropped box but instead_

Charles would

 **  
_Click._   
**

Erik blinked, tears he hadn’t known he could shed sliding down his cheeks at the movement. Charles stared back at him, sad and tired, swallowing and breathing hard, as if he’d just been running.

That was when he felt his muscles return, his sense of the metal in his hand and in the room flooding back in, righting his internal balance even as the gun dropped from boneless fingers. He couldn’t stop shaking, though. He didn’t think he could ever stop shaking. He crumpled to the ground, one arm knocking the chess set, sending the pieces flying.

Charles crouched down to look at him, and his face was so sad. Erik couldn’t decide how he felt about that; right now, everything was too bright and shaking for thought.

“Gods without rules, without boundaries or control, are monsters, Erik.”

He leaned over and pressed his lips so gently against the sweat-damp hair of Erik’s forehead. As he did, Erik could feel the shaking calm, his frazzled terror ease. He tried to be angry, went to the well of his rage for his strength, and found that there was nothing there for the moment. He stared up at Charles, gaping and raw and unsure of what to do. Right now, he was unsure of everything.

“Our goal must be to keep the monsters at bay, my friend,” Charles said softly, “especially the ones we could become.”


End file.
